Standing at the blackboard, was a man in his early forties. His dark hair was swept back, accentuating the arches at his temples and the few gray hairs that had started to form there.
He was tall and broad at the shoulders. With his square jawline and shadowed eyes—it all made an imposing figure of a man, but somehow she was expecting…she didn’t know. More?
But with Vile being a literal inhuman eldritch monster and Hook being a fairytale villain, the man in front of her was far morenormalin appearance. She supposed the man at the front of the room had a tough act to follow.
It was when he began to speak, that she realized that his voice made up for what he lacked in physical intimidation. It was equally terrifying and hypnotic. He was tapping a piece of chalk on the board, passionately gesturing at a large mathematical equation that had more symbols in it than numbers—and it meantabsolutely nothingto her.
And judging by the blank stares of most of the other students, she wasn’t alone in that. But the sound of him talking, explaining what was absolutenonsenseto her,could have kept her rapt attention for hours.
It carried effortlessly in the hall, all bass tones and resonance, and she found herself caught up in it immediately, ignoring the fascination of being inVictorian goddamn Englandto stare at the man in front of her.
Because there he was.
Professor James Moriarty.
She hoped she wasn’t getting both her and Sidney into a real mess putting them both into a Sherlock mystery. But…they were fairly tameas far as fiction went. No supernatural monsters. No world-ending drama. Just normal, run of the mill murder, robbery, and extortion. It had to be safe-ish.
As safe as they could be, considering.
Class was dismissed after about forty-five minutes. She took notes, having done her best to make it look like she was following along, even though she highly doubted that she was there to learn the finer points of theoretical mathematics. The students filed out of the room, and glancing at the clock high on the wood-paneled wall, it was fairly late in the afternoon. Likely the last session.
When it was just the two of them left in the room, Moriarty finally spoke as he began to tuck his papers into his leather satchel. “The reporters will start to write rumors, Miss Adler, if you continue to surreptitiously audit my lectures.”
Theory confirmed. She was Irene Adler. Which version was up for debate—talk about a character who’d been massively reinterpreted throughout media over the generations.
She supposed…the interpretation was up to her, wasn’t it? She was writing this fiction just as much as Vile, Virtue, and Sidney were. She was tempted to laugh again at the absurdity of the world’s most deadly LARP, but she was reminded of the deal she’d just made with Vile.Play the role. Or else he goes after Sidney.
After a pause, she spoke. “A woman cannot have a legitimate interest in the subject of mathematics? I am disappointed in you, Professor.” She tucked her notebook and pen into her clutch and clasped it shut.
She was actually a little excited to be Irene Adler—the woman.The character was originally an opera singer and courtesan who had outsmarted Sherlock Holmes himself.
Moriarty chuckled quietly. “Hardly. You might find it surprisingly forward thinking of me, but I believe there is no limit placed upon intelligence by the nature of one’s gender. Simply by one’s lack of creativity in how one wishes to apply it.”
“Then why the remark?” She stood from the bench and moved to stand in the aisle.
“Because I have far less faith in our journalistic society’s ability to apply said creativity. Or, perhaps, they know precisely who theiraudience is.” He finished stacking his papers into his leather bag and clasped the flap. “Regardless—how may I help you, Miss Adler?”
Since he kept calling herMissand not Madam or Mrs, Sasha assumed this was a version of the character that wasn’t yet married. Or maybe hadn’t gotten mixed up with the King of Prussia at all, like in the original story. It was hard to tell how much was set in stone and how much was up for debate. “I was wondering if you had a few moments to discuss today’s lecture. I have a few questions about the finer points of the equation you were reviewing.”
Moriarty glanced up at the clock. “I have a better idea. As it is getting late, we could move my office temporarily and have this discussion over dinner.” There wasn’t even a flicker of an emotion on his face. Nothing that gave away even a hint that he might have, even a little, been attempting to flirt with her. The line was delivered with the same cold impassiveness as the rest of the conversation.
She arched her eyebrow. “Now who is feeding the newspapers, sir?”
He picked up his bag without reacting to her comment in the slightest. Hell, he looked bored with everything. He might honestly just want food and she was just along for the ride. “I am unsure if you are aware of the schedule that professors are required to keep, but I have not been able to eat since breakfast. I am simply hungry. If it will not tarnish your reputation, of course.”
That made her laugh, though she wasn’t honestly quite sure why. Maybe it was because she knew that it was actually Vile in there, playing the character. And the fact that she was stillpissed as shitat him over what he’d done to her just minutes prior.
The feeling of his lips on hers still lingered in the back of her mind.
“Speculation over my love life is unfortunately just part and parcel with my chosen career, I fear. Who shall court the diva today?” She walked down the stairs toward the floor of the lecture hall, taking a second to adjust to the heels she was wearing. She wasn’t really ever much one for fancy shoes. At least they weren’t particularlystupid—just an inch or so. But they weren’t exactly modern, and they weren’t exactly comfortable, either.
“I am spared such things in my line of work.” Moriarty was taller than her, though that wasn’t hard. Probably around six feet-ish. His expression was still detached and a million miles away as he seemed to look past her and onto other things. “Though you must relish it, or else you would not have become a performer.”
“One must follow one’s gifts where they lead. I will not deny that there is some joy that comes with the love of an audience and the freedom that brings. But it is a double-edged sword.” Hopefully she was rising to the occasion of playing her part. It was definitely a lot easier for her to fall into the role of Victorian lady than it wasMr. Smee.
As he led them from the room, she followed alongside as they walked from the lecture hall and through the building. She tried not to gawk too hard at the building. It wasgorgeous.She’d been to England a few times during her masters program, visiting the different colleges there and going to the different libraries. But to see it all done up in Victorian era trappings was something else entirely. Gas lamps burned on the walls, and students in period clothing were gathered around, talking quietly.
Most of the young men stopped to stare at her as she walked by, many of them blushing and smiling and looking away shyly.
